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Thursday, May 29, 2014

I
was on my way to work listening to the Tom Joyner Morning Show when I heard
them announce that Maya Angelou had passed away. When I got to work I
immediately logged onto my computer to confirm that one of our icons had indeed
fallen.

Though
I knew that she was 86 and had truly lived an exceptional life, it just didn’t
feel like she should be gone. I found myself in a place that I thought I had
left—a surreal existence of trying to deal with something that I didn’t want to
be real. I looked up at my bulletin board in the hall entitled Phenomenal Woman and I was reminded of
the work my students had done creating poems on great women in history, and the
fact that we’d used Dr. Angelou’s poem to kick off our lesson.

Born
in to poverty and segregation, Maya Angelou born Marguerite Johnson, epitomized
the American dream. She faced many struggles in her life, but she never let
anything stop her. She was the true definition of a Renaissance Woman. She
acted. She directed. She sang. She danced. And she wrote. Not only was she an
artist, she was also an activist. Maya Angelou was an African-American woman in
a country that did not treat those who of her race or gender well. And even
though she spoke out against injustices, she was not bitter. She looked for the
lesson in every experience.

Maya Angelou was many things to many people, and as I read
the various reflections on the life she led, the words of Oprah Winfrey
resonated with me the most. Not only did her words eloquently capture the
essence of their relationship, it flooded me with memories of my friend who recently
passed away. Like Maya, Carmen faced many struggles that she didn’t let stop
her. When life handed her lemons, she didn’t complain. She made lemonade. Ten
years my senior, our friendship spanned more than two decades. Just like Maya was to Oprah, Carmen “was there
for me always guiding me through some of the most important years of my life.”

Carmen was not a celebrity in the sense of the word as we
know it, but she was well known in the circles that she traveled in and she
affected everyone around her. Oprah said what stood out to her the most was not
what Maya Angelou had done or written or spoken, but how she lived her life.
How she lived her life. Those words jumped out at me because like Maya Angelou,
Carmen lived life on her own terms. She never compromised who she was, and she
was one of the most selfless people I’d ever met. It was one of many things
that I admired about her.

I never had the opportunity to meet Maya Angelou in person,
but I read her work; I watched her in interviews and I learned from her as she
was an exceptional teacher. Carmen and I were colleagues, friends, and
confidantes to each other. I learned from her as well even when I was a
reluctant student. She died in March and I miss her every day. She may not have
had the far reaching influence of a Maya Angelou, but she touched a lot of
lives. Today the world is a darker place because their lights no longer shine.
Like Maya is to Oprah, Carmen will always be to me—“the rainbow in my clouds.”

Thursday, May 8, 2014

As Black women and
girls, it seems like we can’t heal fast enough before we find ourselves under
the wheels of the bus of a society seemingly determined to crush our collective
spirit. And what’s especially hurtful is when the driver of the bus is someone
who should be pulling us out of harm’s way instead of trying to run us over!

The thing about media and
Black folk is that we are not held to the same standard as other folk. There is
microscopic scrutiny of our action. Beyoncé singing sexy music to her husband is
responsible for an increase in teen pregnancy among African-American girls who
look at her as a role model according to Bill O’Riley. Donald Sterling, on the
other hand is looked upon as an anomaly of sorts. Black people are always being
judged and held accountable collectively rather we like it or not.

Black men share Black
women’s struggle for justice and fair representation; Black men know our story,
so the last place we want to see them is behind the wheel of a bus barreling
toward us. The tire tracks on our backs were still fresh from the Mimi Faust
fall-out, when I saw this bus coming at us full speed just as we were about to
step off the curb at we-can-move-past-this latest-episode Avenue.

The driver, Columbus
Short, from the highly popular ABC drama Scandal was fired from the series when he was caught in his own real life scandal of domestic
violence. There had been a number of altercations between the two dating back
to February according to reports, but after an incident on April 7, Tanee
McCall, Short’s wife filed a restraining order against her husband.

So, what does Short
do? He shows up at the house he shared with his wife accompanied by another woman
to help him collect his belongings. McCall is said to have attacked the woman
after McCall asked the woman to leave and she refused. Short released a video
of McCall attacking the other woman. Why didn’t Short try to stop the fight or
call the police? Because he was too busy trying to run his wife down.

And if that wasn’t bad
enough, Comedian DL Hughley jumped on the bus with Short and took it for a spin.
When news of the alleged abuse charges broke, Hughley went on a wild rant on
his radio show about it. He called McCall-Short a “thirsty bitch” and went
on to say, “I think that broad shouldn’t be telling all his business if she
gone take him to court.” Hughley pumped his breaks, promptly removed the audio
and issued an apology when the public responded negatively to his comments.

But this wasn't the
first time Hughley has been behind the wheel. When Don Imus comments "nappy-headed hoes" comments caused a ruckus,” Hughley
co-signed on that foolishness remarking that Imus hadn’t lied because they were
“nappy-headed hoes.” Hughley apologized for his dismissal of the abuse
allegations, but he doesn’t seem to find anything wrong with continuously
calling us out of our name. Too bad we can’t revoke his license.

Before long, I could
hear the rumbling of another bus coming. This time it was Floyd Mayweather
behind the wheel driving full speed ahead. After pictures of his ex, Shantel
Jackson and Rapper Nelly all cuddled up surfaced, a revenge seeking Mayweather posted a
sonogram picture on his Instagram account of the twins that Jackson allegedly aborted. The backlash was furious and swift, and Mayweather removed the picture, but it
was too late. Jackson’s body had already been tossed into oncoming traffic.

While
these are individual stories, they do help drive
public opinion and push the rest of us off the curb. Once something
personal
becomes public, and the public feeds off pre-conceived notions of a
marginalized
group, the personal becomes political for us all. Beep, beep! Get out of
the
way!

Monday, May 5, 2014

A stranger stabs you in the front; a friend stabs you
in the back; a boyfriend stabs you in the heart, but best friends only
poke each other with straws.

- Unknown

In July of last year, my friend
Carmen and I were scheduled to take a trip to Canada. It was a literary retreat
where we would have an opportunity to meet other nerdy women who loved to read,
meet the authors and do some sight-seeing. Carmen was always on the move. So,
when she told me two days before that she was going to cancel, I knew that
something was wrong. She had been sick on and off and had been to the Emergency
Room a few times, but the doctors told her she had fibroids and needed to see a
physician about surgery.

So, I went to Canada alone. But I
was worried. Carmen had an exceptionally high tolerance for pain so the fact
that she was complaining made me think something serious was going on. I kept
calling her from Canada and she told me to stop calling her. I told her she
couldn’t tell me what to do. She told me she was having surgery on Monday. I
was due back on Monday. She was in the hospital and my sister had taken my
mother to the ER twice in the few days that I was gone. I felt helpless, but
there was nothing I could do.

When I got home Monday, I received a
text from Carmen’s sister. Carmen had an advanced stage cancer even though she
had, had a biopsy in late May or early June and tested negative. How could this
happen? The next day I went to the hospital, and I was there when the
ventilator was removed, but I was gone by the time the doctors gave her,
diagnosis. She teased me that she was surprised that I had held it in because I
was such a girl—her time for anyone that cried.

I was scared for my friend, but I
thought if there is anyone that can bounce back from this it was Carmen. In the
20 plus years we had been friends I’d watch her bounce back from two hip
replacements and then start competing in short distance triathlons. She had to
have the same knee replaced twice!-and she completed a 5K. When the first knee replacement
went bad, she was upset. She got the news the same day I sliced my hand open on
the first day of a new job trying to open some mustard. When I sent her picture
of my hand with stitches in it, she said that made her day. That’s the way we
were with each other—always laughing and joking, but always, always in each
others corner.

When she was going through chemo she
said she didn’t want to talk to people when she was feeling bad, and so I
respected that and checked in with her sister and stepdaughters. When she was
up for it, we would laugh and tease each other like always. Money exchanged
hands a lot between us and we never knew who owed who. When she was sick, she
told me she owed me money, but because she was sick, she didn’t have to pay me
back.

Our lives were indelibly
intertwined. We were colleagues, triathlon training buddies, traveling
companions and confidantes to each other. In the middle of March, I found out that the
chemo wasn’t working and the hospice team was going to be called in. I remember
getting my faced made up for the belly dance show and talking to her sister
about a farewell party. It was Saturday,
and I had just seen her the day before in the hospital. When I walked in the
room, she looked up and said, “Hey Ninja Turtle Head,” a nickname that she gave
me because she said I have a small head. We talked before she drifted off to
sleep. She was discharged on Saturday and dead on Tuesday. When I got the call,
I didn’t know what to do. I thought it was some cruel joke. She had been
through so much, and I just knew she’d make it through, but she didn’t.

I am
still trying to process her death. I know that the ache of her absence will
lessen over time, but for now there is huge void in my life. What sustains me
is the legacy she left behind. In her short time on this earth, I can honestly
say that Carmen was a humanitarian in the truest sense of the word. She was
compassionate, caring and selfless person. She was the epitome of unconditional
love. In my reflections and remembering, here are some lessons I gleaned from
her life. Remembering the person that she was and following in her footsteps
allows her spirit to live on. This is what learned:

1. Give back--find something that you believe in and donate your time money or both. Find someone in need and
off him or her helping hand.2. Be adventurous--do what you've never done; do
something you've always wanted to do but have been afraid. Now's the time.3. Be silly-- laugh at yourself. Laugh at life.
Have fun!4. Stand on what you believe in and don't
compromise the morals and values that guide you. 5. And when life hands you lemons, make lemonade!I greatly miss my friend, but I have a friendship
of 20 plus years to sustain me. And those memories-- there are many-- will get
me through the bad days.